No rest for the weary. Sam has no consideration at all, I tell you, and I certainly didn't remember to take his early morning larking into consideration last night. He woke me up at 7:15. My head is pounding, my stomach is, er, delicate, and I have developed a severe aversion to light of all kinds. Wow. I haven't felt this bad since I was a freshman in college. Now I remember why I gave this up. Seemed worth it last night, though.
And, oh, do I have tangible proof of my foolishness. That Alysia, she's a bad, bad influence:
Honestly, I barely remember getting the darn thing. I know that I was sufficiently "anesthetized" to pay the needle no mind at all. Now that the alcohol has left my system, I am very, very sore, and more than a little abashed. Eric is upset with me, though, for some reason, not surprised. He says he knew something "off" was going to come of my Girls' Night Out.
It makes me want to defend the darn thing, really.
But why, why did I have to get such a big one?
I have to go drink some coffee now, and find some arnica and some Tylenol. Ow.
On the Stereo:|
On the Bookshelf:
Rereading Guns of the South